


Thrill of the Hunt

by Gelsey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/pseuds/Gelsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenrir Greyback once told Bill Weasley he would be back to finish what he started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrill of the Hunt

Flight. Hunt. Pursuit.

Nimble feet through the forest, across rocky ground. Follow, follow. Prey scent, find, seek, hunt.

Blood rushes through hearts, hers louder in my ears than mine. The song of the earth, hunter prey, life death, circles all around.

But it isn’t about the circle of life. Never has been for me, no. It’s the thrill, the chase. The game. This is definitely a game this night. Azkaban might have kept me for a time, but it could not keep me forever.

No, Azkaban could not keep Fenrir Greyback contained. Especially not when there was a game left to finish.

I’d promised William Weasley at Hogwarts that night that I was not done with him. At the time, long suffering had seemed most enjoyable, but I had not foreseen the outcome of the war. 

She breathes in sharp, harsh pants. I chuckle and growl. The sound echoes from every direction, sounding as if demons surround her. The effect, the exquisite hitching of her breath and heaving of her bosom, is perfect.

“Mrs Weasley.” I chew the words slowly, scaring her. “Mrs Fleur Delacour Weasley…”

She runs, long legs pale under the full moon. I lope after her. I could catch her at any time, but I choose to let her flee. The anticipation sharpens the event, gives me joy that is impossible to catch at any other time than during the chase and kill.

“Did he ever tell you what I told him?” The whisper creeps through the high grasses that lead toward her cottage. “That I wasn’t done yet? That I would be back to play?”

She shakes her head in reflex, and I realize that Bill had never confided that in his lover, his wife. How utterly delightful.

“I told him I would make him suffer in the worst ways… How many nights has he laid awake and not told you why, little flower? Roamed the house as midnight approached and never given an explanation?”

I howl, able to see from where I crouch the goosepimples raising on her arms.

It’s only now, as the midnight hour is close at hand, that I herd her back to her home, toward the myth of safety. She barrels through the door, thinking it will be enough. That the wards will protect her.

But I am not a wizard. Never have been. I am werewolf, not man, not wizard. These cannot stop me.

She hides in the bathroom, her blood smearing the white porcelain from where I have harried and harassed her, the bottom streaked from the cuts on her feet. She curls further in the corner, back turned as if denying my presence.

She has fought admirably to stay alive, but her body shivers roughly, knowing her fate already. No mere mortal can resist this, and I surge forward with the thrill of the kill.

Bill Weasley thought I was done with him. He’ll see, now, that I’ve just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bill/Fleur LDWS years ago. Prompt was "Thriller" by Michael Jackson as well as a picture prompt.


End file.
